Road Chosen: Sequel Book 2

Chapter 19

Mike

Wow. It’s not like her to talk like that. My Elena would have never used that word.

It’s like a good girl gone bad. I don’t necessarily hate it, but it’s so different coming from her.

I want to. Oh, do I want to. I want to bend her over this bed with her face down into the soft duvet with her ass up so I can…

I shouldn’t think like that right now. She wants it for the wrong reason and she’s not ready for that.

My large hands gently cup her face as I lean in. “Not like this.” What the hell, dude? “You will hate me for it.”

Her eyes darken with fury. “I already hate you.”

I stand up and decide that she should go to sleep by herself. I don’t trust my strength to deny her a second time. “Try to get some sleep, alright?” With that, I head for the door so there’s no room for negotiations.

“I hate you Michael Gilbert! Go to hell!” She yells and throws a pillow at me as I shut the door.

“I’m already in hell,” I say to no one as I run my fingers through my hair and over my face as I trudge over to the couch to spend a sleepless night on the cold leather.

****

He back hands me against my face. It hurts more than usual because he has those gaudy biker rings on every finger but his pinky and thumb.

The taste of copper leaks into my mouth from my busted lip.

He points to a woman in a chair. “Look at what you did!” He has my mother tied up. He’s never tied her up before, never laid a finger on her.

Even in my dream, I know this isn’t right. Something’s off; this isn’t a memory.

My grandpa’s dark eyes focus on mine. “Now you’ll have to pay the consequences and watch me torture her.”

I blink and it’s no longer my mother begging for her life in the splintery chair across from me. It’s Elena.

The face changes on my sadistic grandfather; it’s no longer him threatening her life. It’s my uncle.

“You couldn’t protect her. You promised you’d protect her!” I cut my eyes to my right and see the stone-cold face of Elijah. “You’ll pay for this.”

I can feel myself fighting this dream, but I can’t wake up.

Randall is walking towards Elena, who is screaming for her life. “Michael!” She cries out for me. For my help. For my protection.

I can’t give it to her as he creeps closer and closer with a cigar cutter.

“Let her go!” I yell and fight against my restraints.

Randall holds her hand still under the vise of rope cutting into her wrists. He positions the round cutter around her ring finger on her left hand, then he looks over his shoulder.

It’s no longer Randall giving me a nasty vile grin full of evil promises.

It’s me.

No.

I am not my grandpa and I sure as hell ain’t my uncle! I can’t be…

She’s begging me to stop, to have mercy.

The cutter closes in on her finger as she screams out my name.

I jolt awake in a hot sweat and land with a thump on the floor – my waking from a dead sleep with a karate chop needs some work. As I try to catch my breath, I swipe the coat of sweat off my brow.

“Michael!” A scream.

Elena.

“Michael! Please, no!” She screams again.

Rushing to my feet, I push my way into the bedroom expecting someone grabbing at her to take her away, but she’s alone in the room, thrashing around in my sheets.

“Not him.” She tosses her head and slams her arm to her side. “Please, don’t!”

I run to her on the bed and grab her by the shoulders. “Elena, it’s a dream, honey. Wake up.”

Her eyes scrunch together, and she screams.

“Elena!” I shout above her screams and pat her face gently with my hand while holding her down with my other one.

She opens her eyes and tears stream down her cheeks as soon as she sees me.

“Baby,” I whisper and hold her face in my hands. “Are you okay?”

My girl shakes her head as more tears fall from her eyes. I crawl into bed then hold her whether she wants me to or not. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Sometimes it helps to talk about these things.

Or so I’ve heard, I haven’t tried it yet…

Her head shakes against my chest, I can feel her hot tears against my bare skin. At least she’s starting to calm down, so I take that as my cue to leave. I push my side of the covers off and begin to sit up, but a light touch on my bicep stops me.

“D-don’t go.” She sounds faint. With the moonlight shining down through the blinds, I can see her eyes are begging for me not to leave her.

With more joy than I should feel, I cover myself up under the covers to snuggle nice and close against Elena’s back while I hold her all throughout the night.

Tonight, she smells like cherries and some type of fruity vodka, but there’s a hint of peaches and vanilla too. My chest warms as I take in her familiarity and feel myself start to fall asleep; hopefully the rest of the night will be as restful as the first night she stayed over. I had no nightmares that night. I like to think that her light kept away the darkness.

****

A gentle flutter of a feeling on my wrist draws me from my slumber. I peek an eye open and see Elena in my arms drawing a finger over the scarred tissue on my wrist from that one awful night. She takes her time tracing the rigid lines, then moves her forefinger to the cross between my index finger and thumb while it rests against her chest. Her touch is the best feeling in the world – it’s tender, light, and feathery, like she’s scared of hurting me or something.

There was a particular kind of fear in her eyes last night at the bar and when she woke from her nightmare. I want to ask her, but I don’t want to bother her thoughts while tracing my skin.

How long has she been up? More importantly: with her wanting me to stay with her last night, does that mean she’s forgiven me? I sure hope so.

I really don’t want to disturb her, but I would love to know what is in that head of hers. “Good morning,” I say with rusted windpipes as I tighten my hold around her, scared that she might flee now that I’m awake.

She sucks in a breath. “Does it still hurt?”

My brows furrow. “Does what hurt?”

Her finger traces over my scars on my wrists again. “These.”

“Just the memory,” I mumble into her neck, relishing the warmth against her delicate curve.

Turning in my arms, she faces me, then automatically looks at my chest instead of my face. Her finger traces the Devil Henchmen’s tattoo. “What happened to your club?”

I inhale and think about whether or not I should let her in on what I know. “Usually when a president gets kicked out of the club or removed from their rank, there’s a vote. However, in this case, it didn’t happen that way, because the club split up. A few of my brothers are under the close watchful eye of their new President, Jace. A few others decided to keep close to me instead.”

Her lips gather to the side as she swallows the information. “Are you going to try and get the club back?”

My hand reaches for hers to still it from tracing the tattoo. “It’s one of the things on my list. But it’s not the priority right now.”

We look into each other’s eyes at that statement. I see her beginning to freeze up, she is starting to turn cold, the warmth in her blue gaze is diminishing; it's now that I really take in the sight of her stressed skin and dark circles. They match mine.

She pulls the covers off and rushes out of bed. “I can’t be here. I need to leave.”

I try to reach for her, but I just miss. “Elena,” I call.

Without grabbing her dress, she takes her heels and makes her way out of my room as though she’s embarrassed for staying with me. I jump out of the bed and catch her arm just as she’s about to grab the keys for her car that were left on the table in the hallway.

“Why are you still fighting this? Us?” I beg. “I thought maybe you’ve forgiven me.”

She gives me a throaty sarcastic laugh. “Forgive you? Michael, upon the lies you’ve given me, you are also a murderer. You killed Isaac! I know he wasn’t innocent, but – “

“Do you remember what he did to you?” I bark.

Her eyes widen. “I have not forgotten, Michael! Is that your way of justifying it? Oh my gosh, Michael. Is that why you killed him?”

Part of it. “No,” I lie.

She shoves her hands in her hair. “He was your cousin. You killed your own family member.”

I hold up a finger. “One, I didn’t know he was my cousin at the time.” I hold up a second finger. “Two… he had it coming.”

Her hands find her hips as she c***s her head. “Really? He had it coming?” She yells.

Nodding, I say, “Your dad agreed with me.”

I’ve never seen her brows rise that high. “What?”

Shit.

“My father agreed with you?”

Dammit.

She squints at me. “He knew?”

I'm in trouble now. I stare at her with wide eyes, lost for words.

“Michael?” She’s expecting an answer. “You promised me last night that, no matter what, you’d tell me the truth.”

I sigh, “Yes. Okay? He knew. He was right there with me when we buried Isaac.”

Her mouth drops, then she shuts it just as fast. She’s searching the room for something. Is she planning on killing me with whatever she finds?

“When was that?”

Waiting a beat, I say, “Christmas Eve.”

Elena turns from me and digs her hands into her scalp once more. “I knew it. I knew he didn’t go help someone from work with a dead end!”

“Technically,” I start, then shut my mouth as soon as she twirls around to give me the cutest, murderous death glare I’ve ever seen.

“When I asked him about Isaac, he lied to me about that, too,” she comments under her breath.

“He didn’t want you to worry or know about a certain side of him. He was scared you’d judge him or something…” I offer in hopes to put her at ease a little. “He made me promise to keep it all a secret. If word got out that he helped me cover up a body –“

“What else are you not telling me? I know my father; at least, I thought I did. Did he make you promise anything else? How do I know that what you feel for me is real and is not some promise you’re keeping – like still working for my dad beyond the grave?” She shouts.

“What I feel is real, I promise you.”

Her hands fist at her sides as she yells, “My dad made you promise something, didn’t he?”

“Elena,” I say as I scramble for my words. Yes, he made me promise to keep her safe, to keep an eye on her. If I come clean about that, then she won’t think that my love for her is real.

“Tell me!”

I feel defeated. My shoulders slump as I prepare for her reaction. “He made me promise to keep an eye on you, to keep you safe…”

Her hands find her scalp as she begins to pull on her hair. “I knew it!”

Reaching for her, I say, “But that’s not the only reason why I’m trying to keep you close -you have to know that!”

She yanks her arm from my hold. “What else? Tell me.”

“Maybe you should ask my mother,” I mumble and automatically regret it.

“What?” She asks with clear confusion on her face. Right when I’m about to tell her that my mom was actually the one who staged it all, there’s a knock that interrupts us.

Both of our heads snap to my front door. Elena’s eyes widen as she turns back to me. I motion for her to stay silent by bringing a finger to my lips then whisper for her to move behind me. Before reaching the door, I take the pistol off the table and hold it behind my back.

You never know what kind of danger lurks behind a knock these days.

With my hand on the handle, I slowly turn the knob to creak the door open.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” I groan and slam the door, toss my pistol on the table, and walk into the kitchen to open the fridge door for a beer.

I’m gonna need it.

“Who was that?” Elena asks pointing to the door.

“No one,” I say in hopes that the low life on the other side will take the hint and leave me alone.

Another knock sounds so Elena, being who she is, pads over to the door to open it.

I hear her gasp in surprise, “Declan?”

Dillweed Declan.